Memories of Innocence Lost
by QueenTatooine
Summary: ONE SHOT! When distrust breeds war and suffering, those who live through it are scarred and haunted for what they cannot let go. PLEASE REVIEW!


AN: I know I said I wouldn't be posting anything till after Renfaire was over, but I found this in an old notebook and decided to post it to see what people thought.

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Tears ran down the girl's deceptively young face. The memory haunted her, the nightmare plagued her; it still followed her, even after all these years. The moment of her orphaning, the moment she became alone. More tears flowed down her tear-stained face. If only she had been human, then she wouldn't be alone.

She was a Gargoyle, the last of her kind that she knew of to still exist.

Memories resurged; memories of her mother, memories of her clan, memories of a happier time brutally cut short by the wiles and whims of time and chance.

Her clan had devoted themselves to the protection of humans, long ago, long before her hatching. In that time of darkness and light, the Gargoyles, called demons by some and monsters by others, came to a realization and made a bargain with some unknown power. In exchange for the light of the very sun, they had given up their bloodlust for a chance at love and hope, for a soul. They were no longer feared creatures of evil but saw the need to protect others. Each clan had found something in danger, something to protect. Some chose humans, some chose a location, some chose a way of life, and each and every one swore to protect what they had chosen.

Her clan had chosen a group of humans, weaker than many of the other groups that lived around them, a group preyed upon by the stronger humans. Slowly, the group began to grow; they became strong enough that they swore to protect their guardians during the daylight hours, when they were defenseless. And, thus, the pact was made. The humans grew populous and successful, the clan grew strong and freely mingled with the humans during the nighttime hours. There was happiness all around.

She was hatched on the new moon, earlier than anyone expected. Immediately sensing her potential, the sorceress of the tribe took her as an apprentice. Gargoyles have no mothers, but this woman was as close to that as it was possible to get. Slowly, she set about teaching the hatchling magic.

They had been so very happy, there were so many others around, 500 hundred in their clan alone, and hundreds upon hundreds of clans across the land.

When not learning her spells, she worked to make things to trade, or played with the other young Gargoyles. Then the wars started and everything changed.

Some clans went renegade; seeds of distrust were sewn as a giant hand swept the land, leaving chaos in its wake. Humans no longer trusted the Gargoyles, certain that one day they would turn on the people living in the city. The Gargoyles began to fear each day if they would wake up the following night.

An overheard conversation was all that it took to convince her clan to run. One soldier talking to another on how they would remove the threat very soon, and how they then would be able to sleep well at night. So the clan, all 554 members, fled into the wilderness surrounding the human settlements, during the days they hid in caves trying to remain hidden from threats. During the nights they starved, fell ill and one by one began to fall.

In order to provide the clan with the much needed protection during the daylight hours, the sorceress made a plan. Using one of their last human allies and the poor, not-yet-of-age Gargoyle, she cast a spell, causing the human to turn to stone during the day, and her daughter to remain flesh. To compensate the human, he received a spell of great strength which would last as long as his descendents.

With protection insured during the daylight hours the clan was free to wander away from the safety of the caves, to areas richer in wildlife. Every day she guarded her clan, marveling at the sun, the warmth, the changes in the very world around her which could be seen only during the daylight hours; things her clan would never be able to see. Such sights gave her hope that the killing could come to an end, that peace could reign again, that her clan could once more be happy. What a fool she had been.

Then, one day, it had all changed. There was a man, creeping through the underbrush, making his way towards the helpless clan. Screaming a challenge, she had attacked the man from the air, chasing him from the clan. Her dreams of the killing ending, though, made her weak, and she merely herded him away from her clan; she did not kill him, or harm him in any way. Even when the man shot at her as she turned to leave him she merely cast a spell on him, holding him immobile till night fell, forcing him to endure the same helplessness that her clan experienced every day. She had been excited, the spell was a difficult one, and its success would be praised by the sorceress.

She had chased the man far from her clan, and had a long way to travel before she could be with them; a time in which horrors were taking place which she would never have imagined. She returned to find many men at work with hammers and picks, slowly decimating her clan, sparing none--neither children nor gravid female.

It was nearly nightfall when she came upon them, and she lost control of her reason, as screaming a war cry she attacked them fiercely. She had been outnumbered though, and her desperation only made her more vulnerable. It did not take them long to tangle her in a net and hold her at spear point, perhaps as some form of a trophy for use later. So she did the only thing she could: she reached within herself for that core of power and began to weave it into a new form.

The men ignored her and returned to the destruction of those she loved. Though she worked quickly, forging the power within her into a weapon for her own use, so did they, and her clan was dwindling dangerously. There were none who were unaffected at this point; any who survived till nightfall would probably die of their wounds.

The power was ready just as the sun was setting; she opened her hands to throw it at the attackers when the sorceress awoke, "Don't do it," she cried. The sorceress was fatally wounded and immediately fell to the ground bleeding, staining the grass with her life source.

So used to obeying everything the sorceress ordered, she changed the spell, altered it to something less dangerous, something she had only read of briefly. As the sorceress bled and the remaining warriors attacked the humans who had done this horrible crime, her spell backfired and its effects became apparent. Every cell in her body was rejuvenated, every aspect renewed. As her clan lay decimated around her, she received immortality.

The remaining clan members tried to talk her into staying, but they didn't need her anymore; their numbers were few enough that they could again take refuge in the caves and have plenty of food. There were only twenty-five left. Twenty-five out of five hundred. She had failed in her duty to protect the clan and thus was not worthy to remain in their presence. If they would not exile her, she would exile herself.

Now, in the twenty-first century, she heard stories of possible Gargoyles. But, even if they were true, she could not approach them, could not present herself to their company. She was alone and she always would be, it was what she deserved.

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AN: Hope you like this story, please review and tell me what you think. 


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